Title to Come Later
by historylover
Summary: Pure crack fic. I hope you have half as much fun reading it as I had writing it. Nothing objectionable for adults.


A/N: I'm bored at work. Remember when a lot of my stories began like that? So, this is a sheer crackfic. Inspired by _Angel_'s "Smile Time." You have been warned. Also, not really set within any particular season. And this is also my longest one-shot. I probably could have made it a multi-chapter… but I didn't want to.

Also, this is my 50th story for Supernatural. Not all 50 are up any more (obviously). But, I have the completed stories in my own file. But, I hope you enjoy it. I had fun writing it. I hope you have half as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Also, I didn't do any research on this one. I just wrote. So, if I got things wrong, well, it's meant to be funny.

Disclaimer: As always, I'd like to invoke the great MST3K motto. I also want to say that my inspiration, "Smile Time," is owned by Joss Whedon and Ben Edlund. Supernatural, of course, is the Kripkeeper's.

**Title to Come Later**

Dean woke up to a children's song that he couldn't identify but threatened to turn his brain into syrup. He rolled over to see Sam watching something on his laptop.

He sat up as Sam looked at him. "Did I wake you?"

"Well, _you _didn't. Now that chant that seems to come from _The Birds_ on the other hand…"

"Sorry. I didn't think I had it on that loud. I couldn't find the headphones for it." Sam turned down the music.

"No, it could have been louder. I'm very sure they couldn't hear that in the next county." He walked over and looked over Sam's shoulder at the singing, dancing puppets singing a song about self esteem. "Sammy, are you trying to learn your numbers? Two plus two is four, you know."

"You need coffee." Sam flipped the laptop closed.

"Well, yeah. But, why are you watching that hellish nightmare? I swear, a show like that could scar a kid for life."

Sam sighed. "I got a friend from Stanford who mentioned in a mass email…"

"I can't believe you still keep in touch people from school."

Sam sighed again. "… that his kid loves this particular show, but there was something about it that made him uneasy. He wasn't sure why."

"Probably those damn puppets. They would freak anyone out."

Sam opened the laptop up again and pulled up another webpage. "I was doing a little research. Apparently, this town this show films in has had five people disappear since it started filming. All of these people disappeared on the set tour. There are no leads to what happened to them. They just vanished." He brought up pictures of the missing people.

Dean reached over Sam's shoulder and brought up the page of the program. To him, it looked like a man who made Mr. Rogers edgy and a deranged puppet gush about children's letters to them. "They toured that set? If it was on purpose, they can be established as being loco. If they were dragged to a set tour, then they lost their minds."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's a little sugary…"

"A little? I'm scared I'll get diabetes just watching this."

"But, it might be worth at least checking out, right? Do you have another hunt lined up?"

Dean sighed. "No. I guess we can check it out. Yippee. Puppets."

* * *

Dean picked up a puppet that was laying on the table while they were waiting for the creator, host, puppetmaster of this _Sesame Street _ripoff. He had to grudgingly admit that this doll was crafted pretty well. He put his hand into the doll's back.

Sam walked up. "So, the EMF is obviously acting up."

Dean turned around, making the puppet talk. "Redrum! Redrum!" At Sam's bitchface, he lowered the puppet. "Studio lights would affect it. Besides, I doubt whether this is a ghost."

"Any ideas?"

He held up the puppet again and made it say "I don't see dead people. I see insane people."

"Dean!"

Dean removed the puppet. "I don't know what to say. This set seems so nice and sweet. Everyone seems fine and genuinely likes children. Even though this seems like a _Sesame Street _or a _Captain Kangaroo_ ripoff, I think five disappearances in ten years is a coincidence. It is ten years on the air, right?"

"Yeah."

"I don't think there's much we can do here…" Dean looked past Sam to see a long-haired kid behind the camera staring at him. The look in the kid's eyes made Dean stop talking. The look in the kid's eyes said he knew something terrible, and he was trying to repress it. "However…"

"You're the reporters?" a booming man's voice interrupted Dean. The voice did not match the rest of this guy. Dean was a head taller than this guy, so he wondered what Sam looked like to this guy. He was also dressed as someone who would have gotten his butt kicked in the 1950s, even though he looked to be in his 40s. Pale, checkered shirt, high-water pants. Loafers with fringe on them! At least his glasses were decent, but everything else reminded Dean of Urkel.

"Yeah," Sam said. "We're doing an article on children's television and learning prospects."

"Wonderful!" The man gushed. "Call me Uncle Billy. That's what all the kids call me. I'm sure you have tons of questions, but let me show you around the studio while you ask them to me." With that, he bounced away from the guys.

Dean glanced at Sam. "Lead the way."

* * *

Dean couldn't remember the last time he could describe a man as "bubbly," but Uncle Billy fit the bill. He eagerly showed Sam and Dean all of the puppets he created. He talked about education and learning experiments. He happily posed for pictures with children who were on tours with their parents.

While walking to Uncle Billy's workshop where he made the puppets, Dean noticed a door marked "Danger: Do Not Enter." He made a mental note to come back and check out that room.

As he was looking around, he saw a little girl with curly brown hair and a big smile. Obviously excited to be meeting Uncle Billy. She looked around, catching his eye and gave him a big grin and a wave. As Dean was returning the smile and wave, he noticed the long-haired kid lurking around. He looked over at Sam, who was watching the events with a look on his face that read "OK, I was wrong!" and went over to talk to the kid.

"You're a reporter?" the kid asked Dean before he stopped walking.

"Yeah. We're doing an article on children's programs."

The kid sighed. "Look, I don't want to tell you how to do your business, but you two need to leave. And stop the article. This program doesn't need the attention. It may draw more fans, and you don't know how bad that will be."

"Why?" Dean's mind immediately went back to that strange door that was just inviting a curious person to enter it.

The kid sighed again and glanced past Dean at Uncle Billy, who was now posing with one of his puppets while Sam looked on, baffled. "All I wanted to do was get experience in camera work before I went to film school… do you know that I watched Uncle Billy when I was a kid?"

"I believe it."

"My Mom also watched it when she was a toddler."

Dean looked back at Uncle Billy. "She watched _this_ program? Not another one like it?"

"It was called a different name then. But, Uncle Billy was known as Uncle Billy in the 1950s and 1960s." He started backing away. "Look, my father disappeared after taking me on a tour of this place when I was four years old. I was told he took off, but last time I saw him was on this set. Also… I've seen things that I want to forget about… hey, if I become your source, do I get paid?"

"You mean you want to be our Deep Throat?"

At that, the kid cast Dean a confused look and hurried away.

Sam came up to Dean. "Well, Dean, I think you're right. I don't think there's anything here. He obviously loves kids, and not in a creepy, disturbing way. Sorry about that."

"No. Something's fishy here." Dean turned to Sam. "I think that guy is smoking something, but Uncle Billy is definitely up to something. Anyone who makes Fred Rogers look like Ozzy Osborne has to be evil. Plus, did you notice that door?"

"Why is it we tend to agree on most things but different times? And, I was listening to Uncle Billy talk about putting his puppets together. You didn't listen?"

"He was talking about hot glue and cutting up felt. Of course I tuned out."

"Hi guys," Uncle Billy came up behind them. "Sorry about that. I just get caught up with the kids, you know."

"They are our future," Dean said.

Uncle Billy shot a look up at him that Dean couldn't quite read, but he didn't like it. As quickly as the look came, it passed, and Uncle Billy cheerfully said, "Want to see the filming?"

Dean looked at Sam. "I'll catch up to you guys. I shouldn't have had that Big Gulp earlier." With that, he left Sam with an Uncle Billy who was almost literally bouncing down the hall toward the set. Sam looked uncomfortable.

* * *

Dean walked down the hallway to the door. He drew out his concealed gun and a lockpick. However, when he tried the doorknob, the door was unlocked. "Why would anyone keep a 'dangerous' room unlocked?" he quietly to himself. _Someone not afraid of what's inside, _the answer came back in his mind.

He cautiously stepped inside the room, holding his gun ready to see… more puppets. There had to be at least 50 puppets sitting on shelves. _This place is drowning in puppets! _They were lit by a big green lit glass orb with a mark on its base that looked an 8-pointed star in a circle. The light was pulsing. As he stepped closer to the puppets, the pulsing increased and the orb started making a high-pitched hum.

Dean backed away, wanting to get away from the whine when he took another look at the puppets.

The puppets resembled the missing people that Sam had brought up on the computer.

"_You shouldn't have come in here!" _a booming voice from the green orb announced before the hum increased in intensity.

Dean stumbled to the door, covering his ears, which were threatening to burst by the hum. He tripped over some boxes and fell behind them.

A burst of green light was the last thing he saw.

* * *

Sam was getting anxious. Dean had left him in an awkward spot. He couldn't go to the "bathroom" with him without arousing Uncle Billy's suspicions. Although he wondered why Dean suddenly had _his _suspicions raised.

Plus, watching Uncle Billy talk to his puppets boarded on tedious. He wasn't very good. And he thought Dean's first impressions were correct. This was just a _Sesame Street _wannabe, and the parents went insane and left their families.

Because he felt he was in danger of losing his mind from boredom.

He glanced up the hallway where Dean had gone. He wondered what happened to him. After yet another blown take from Uncle Billy, Sam decided to see what was keeping Dean.

Sam quickly found the danger room, wondering why he hadn't previously noticed it. He cautiously turned the door knob and found it unlocked.

_What kind of idiot would leave a "dangerous" room unlocked? _He wondered.

He entered the dark room. It was so dark he could barely see anything. He took out a flashlight and shone it around the room, nearly jumping through the ceiling when the beam of light hit some felt puppets.

"Dean?" he softly called out.

"Yeah?" Dean's groggy voice answered him. Sam trained the flashlight on some boxes that were moving around.

"You OK?" Sam stepped inside the room, running his hand on the wall, trying to find a light switch. He finally located it and flipped it on. Dean groaned and the boxes rattled faster.

"Dean?" Sam asked again, looking around.

The boxes rattled some more. "See that green orb under the puppet shelves?"

"Yeah."

"It was giving off a weird hum, and it spoke… I must have been knocked out… did you see that flash of green light?" Dean's voice said as the boxes rattled faster.

"No." Sam looked behind the boxes, but he didn't see Dean. "Where are you?"

"I'm not sure. I can see the light of the room through slats above my head. Maybe beneath the room? I can't quite reach them. I don't feel so good. I can't really move. Give me a second."

"You said you were knocked out. You may be feeling the effects of it." Sam looked at a box that was moving faster than the others and backed away from it. "We just need to figure out where you are, and I'll get you out."

He looked around the room, trying to find something that would give him a clue where Dean was and how to get him out of it.

"Oh, crap," Dean suddenly said.

Sam looked toward the direction of his voice. "What?"

"I may have figured out why I don't feel right. I know where I am."

Suddenly, a small, pink felt hand poked through the slats of the box that was moving faster than any other one. The hand pulled down, taking the slats down with it.

Sam stepped back around the box to see it rocking back and forth. Finally, it tipped over.

And a felt puppet that resembled Dean crawled out of the box.

Sam stared at the puppet in shock. It was only about two feet tall. And wearing Dean's clothes. The puppet craned his neck to look all the way up at Sam with a confused and angry look on its face, then down to look at itself.

"Oh, sh—" it began in Dean's voice.

Sam grabbed him before he could finish the word, covering his mouth, just in case there were kids within earshot, and ran him out of the room. The puppet glared up at him with the exact color of Dean's eyes, angrily mumbling a tirade, which was muffled by Sam's hand.

Sam wasn't entirely sure what Dean was saying, but judging from the fact that as they ran past the set and Dean nearly jumped out of his arms when he caught sight of Uncle Billy doing yet another take with his felt hands making motions that he would like to wring someone's neck, Sam was pretty sure the words matched the actions.

Sam ran out to the Impala, hoping he wasn't squeezing Dean too hard. He couldn't quite tell, because it seemed like Dean was completely made out of felt with some framing underneath the cloth to hold him together and upright. Bones were hard to break, but Sam wasn't sure that Dean's framing was bones anymore. Although Dean didn't seem like he was in any pain. He just seemed pissed off.

He deposited Dean on the passenger's seat of the car, but by the time Sam had time to get into the driver's seat, Dean was standing on the seat, trying to get the door open with his fingerless felt hands. Sam grabbed Dean and forced him to sit down. Dean immediately slapped Sam's hand away as hard as he could and reached for the door again. Since Dean's hand was felt now, Sam could barely feel it.

"Dean! Stop it! We'll figure this out. But, you can't just run in and kill Uncle Billy now. He may not be behind this. Plus, I doubt whether you could reach the doorknob."

At that, the puppet focused his green eyes on Sam like a laser. Sam swallowed hard and started the car. Dean's eyes were clamped on him, unblinking.

"We'll figure it out. We'll get you back to normal." Sam said, hoping to reassure Dean as much as he was trying to reassure himself.

* * *

"I can do it!" Dean growled at Sam as he tried to jump from the floor to the bed where he dumped his stuff before they went to the studio. He would get close to getting enough of his floppy arms onto the bed so he could pull himself up on it. But, so far, he wasn't quite getting it.

Trying to climb the bed frame wasn't working either.

Sam sat at the desk, taking pictures of Dean trying to get onto the bed with his camera phone. "Do you remember anything about the orb? Or the voice you heard?"

Dean finally was able to pull himself onto the bed and flopped on his back, breathing hard. "I'm not really sure… the voice was booming. It didn't want me in there. The orb was green. Oh, there was a symbol on the orb. But I don't remember what it is now. Did you see those other puppets? One of them looked just like the last parent who disappeared. I'll bet the other four are in that group as well. And, I bet that if you go back far enough, you'll find more 'disappearances'." Dean waved his fingerless hands in the air, trying to make air quotes. "Maybe around 50 others."

"We just don't know it is Uncle Billy doing this. I know he was on set when you were getting puppetified. Doing take after take after take."

"So? He's doing something. That long-haired kid told me that his mother watched Uncle Billy when she was a toddler. He's been on the air for something like 50 years. I'll bet he has been around longer."

"Obviously, this is some kind of spell." Sam saved the pictures into his phone. He wanted Dean to get back to normal, but having pictures of him as a puppet trying to get on a bed was good blackmail material. Once they figured out how to reverse it.

"Ya think?" Dean sarcastically asked. He stood up on the bed and walked to his bag of weapons. "I'm going to kill him," he muttered, then said out loud, "I had my gun. My pearl handled. Where is it?"

Sam hit Bobby's number on his speed dial. "I don't know. If it was on you or you were holding it, it may be… I don't know… plastic?"

"As if this day couldn't get worse."

"_Hello?" _Bobby's voice sounded through Sam's phone.

"Hey, Bobby. We have, well, a slight problem…"

"_Slight _problem? Tell him I'm felt!" Dean called out as he balanced precariously on the nightstand, trying to open the drawer.

"The problem is that Dean is now a two foot tall felt puppet, like the type used on kids' shows." Sam took the phone away from his mouth, "Hey, Dean, please be careful."

"Oh, what difference does it make if I fall? I'm felt! It's not like this day could possibly get any worse if I fall off this thing." At that, Dean looked down and awkwardly put the pencil in both hands. He frowned as he tried to scratch something on a pad of paper that was half his height. Sam heard him muttering about being a Ken doll now.

"_What?" _Bobby's voice sounded incredulous.

Sam explained the situation to Bobby as he watched Dean scratch on the notepad, muttering under his breath.

"_Um… OK… Sam, I got nothing right now," _Bobby said_. "But, you're probably right. It's probably a spell. But, we need to find out exactly what sort of spell it is. I'm going to come down and join you. We'll get this figured out."_

Sam hung up and watched Dean mutter to himself as he continued to scratch at the notepad with the awkwardly held pencil.

_I don't know what to do. I don't even know where to begin, _Sam thought. He wanted to go back to the studio, but he didn't want to leave Dean alone in this state.

* * *

Sam rubbed his tired eyes. The images on the computer screen started to blur together. He had spent hours on the computer, trying to find anything that could make a person into a puppet. Occasionally, Dean would come over (he figured out that by climbing on the nightstand, he could get on Sam's bed to get close enough to see the pictures on Sam's laptop) , but neither of them had any ideas.

He looked over to see Dean sitting on his own bed, staring at his hands. The pencil and notepad laid beside him.

"Dean?" Sam walked over to the bed and sat beside Dean. He picked up the notepad that Dean had spent the last hours scribbling on to find many scratchy half-drawn symbols.

"I was trying to remember the symbol that was on that orb," Dean said quietly.

"Dean, I told you that I could go down to the studio and find that orb. You kept trying to flip me off when I suggested that."

"It doesn't really work very well when you only have three fingers all mashed together. Besides, I want to remember it. It was something in a circle."

Sam looked at the notepad. He could now make out a whole bunch of crooked circles with stuff drawn in them. Most of the stuff inside the circles looked to be points. "Dean, this actually is good. We can look for each of these symbols. See if anything matches with an orb and turning people into…"

"Dolls," Dean interrupted with a sigh. "I'm going to be soon. Completely. The only thing to do is for me is to work up a good… what do you call that act with puppets? The puppets are supposed to be speaking, and the person's mouth isn't supposed to move? You know, like that guy who does Peanut?"

"Jeff Dunham? Ventriloquism."

"Yeah. That's it."

"Dean, you're not going to stay like this. I'll search for all of these symbols. Bobby is coming down. The three of us will figure this out."

"None of those symbols are right," Dean said. "I can't remember it. It's like it's on the tip of my non-existent tongue, but it's beyond my reach. Not like my reach is very far right now." He started staring at his hands again. "I'm starting to lose myself."

"You're not…"

"I can't even remember how to destroy ghosts. I can't remember how to load a gun. I've been trying to… um…" Dean threw his hands up in frustration. "I can't remember words now!"

"We'll figure it out. I promise."

* * *

"That's unbelievable." Bobby muttered as he watched Dean pace on the bed.

"Yeah, but his memory is going. He's not moving around like he was last night. He's not talking much. I think he understands us. I'm just not sure how much longer that will last." Sam handed Bobby the symbols Dean drew. "Last night, I went back to the studio, but I couldn't find the room with the orb anymore. I couldn't find those other puppets either. Anyway, Dean drew these symbols yesterday, but he thinks they're wrong. Maybe something is close."

"If he turned immediately into the form of a puppet, I'd like to know why he didn't die or his mind didn't immediately turn to stuffing."

"Well, he was in a box. Maybe boxes shielded him from the worst of it."

"So, we're looking for a symbol of a being that produces a green light that can turn living tissue to felt and may be able to kill but can't completely penetrate cardboard?" Bobby asked.

"You got any better ideas?"

"Uncle Billy," Dean croaked out from his bed.

"And we're looking into how this Mr. Rogers wannabe who calls himself 'Uncle Billy' is involved." Sam said. "And I don't think we have much time."

Bobby sighed. "I think you're right." He pulled Dean's notepad toward him and grabbed a book while Sam flipped the computer open.

* * *

"I think I found something," Bobby said. He turned to Dean. "Was the symbol an 8-pointed star in a circle?"

"I… think so."

"It's the symbol of a pagan god. He demands human sacrifices, and that orb chooses the god's next victim. Boxes blocked you from the full blast, Dean. Had it hit you, you would have been killed immediately."

"Does it say how the orb chooses its victims?" Sam asked.

"I think it says that the orb chooses the best," Bobby read from the book.

"I'm the _best_?" Dean asked.

"Apparently to a pagan god."

"Any idea how to reverse this spell?" Sam asked.

"Smash the orb. Smash the symbol on it and break it open to expose the contents."

"That's it?" Dean asked.

"Well, Dean has to do it. With an iron ax."

"I can barely hold this pencil with both hands!"

"And then drink the liquid that comes out of it. It should restore him to normal. After maybe being sick for a couple days."

"What about Uncle Billy?" Sam asked.

"He is the god, isn't he?" Dean asked.

"Probably," Bobby said.

"So, we'll distract Uncle Billy. Maybe watch him film while Dean does his thing." Sam suggested.

"Will that actually keep him occupied?" Bobby asked.

"Yes." Sam and Dean said in unison.

"How much will I have to drink?" Dean asked.

"Maybe a cup. Maybe more."

"Does it say anything about killing the god?" Sam asked.

"It just says 'The thing that makes him strong will kill him'."

"Oh, gee, we'll break the hearts of all the kids if we gank Uncle Billy," Dean said. "I'll drink anything if I don't have to learn that infernal self esteem song. Except, any suggestions on how I can carry an iron ax? And any chance I can mix strawberries in with this goop before I drink it?" Dean asked.

* * *

Dean bounced down the hall of the studio, hoping no one would see him. Because he wasn't even sure at this point that he would even remember puppets usually didn't walk or talk by themselves. Or hold tiny iron axes that would probably take an hour… however long that was... of constant hacking at the orb.

He wasn't even sure if he was in the right hallway. He sure wouldn't be able to see the "Danger" sign if he was.

He also didn't want to _bounce_ down the hall either. But, given that his legs were a lot floppier than they were even an hour ago, he couldn't think of another way to walk.

Not that he was thinking much anymore. He could feel his brain slowly turn to cotton. He knew he didn't have much time left.

As he snuck past the set, he could see Bobby and Sam approach Uncle Billy. He wondered how many hacks it would take for him to cut off Uncle Billy's head with his tiny ax. He hoped to find out sometime.

Dean stopped in front of the door he thought was the right one. "Now to get the door open," he muttered to himself. He pulled out a rope from his bag. "I hope this works."

It took a couple times to get the rope over the door knob. He swung the rope around again. Once it was looped around Dean pulled on the rope and watched the knob turn. He kicked his bag as hard as he could in order to try to crack the door open.

He couldn't believe it worked as he shouldered the door open and scooted into the room.

There was the orb. Under all the creepy puppets that he was quickly becoming.

He hefted the ax to his shoulder. "Goodbye, orb. I really hope this works." He swung the ax into the glass and heard the first satisfying shatter.

* * *

"So, do you come up with the names of your puppets?" Sam asked Uncle Billy.

"Yes, they're like my kids…" Uncle Billy suddenly straightened up and his eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"We're writing a story about your show."

Uncle Billy put down his puppet. "That's not what you're doing here." Suddenly, he grabbed his side as a bloody gash suddenly appeared. He pulled his hand away and looked at his blood. "You stupid humans. You think you can really defeat me? I should have been more careful when I saw your brother was curious about my room. I should have known that he wasn't dead when I didn't find his puppet body!"

He shoved past Sam and stumbled toward the set door to the hallway.

Sam grabbed the doll Uncle Billy had been holding and a pair of scissors. "Uncle Billy! You take one more step, and this puppet you lovingly created bites the big one." Uncle Billy turned, and Sam opened the scissors. "I will cut her up into so many pieces that you won't be able to put her back together."

"She's just an innocent puppet! She didn't do anything to you!" Another gash appeared on Uncle Billy's chest, and he staggered back.

"Your puppets or your life."

Another gash appeared across the god's chest. This one caused him to fall to his knees. "Noooooo!" Uncle Billy yelled out. "Take care of my babies! They didn't do anything to hurt anyone!"

With that, he collapsed. By this time, the gashes started in on his neck. Sam knew Uncle Billy was dead.

"Let's go see if Dean needs any help." Bobby said. "He's obviously destroyed the orb. But he might not be able to choke down whatever comes out of that orb without holding him down."

Sam put down the puppet and the scissors and quickly walked to the hallway door. "I couldn't find the room last time. I thought it was down this hall. You take the left hall, and I'll take the right one."

"OK."

Sam quickly walked down the hallway. At the corner, he turned, debating on which way to turn. He finally decided to turn left.

As he passed the first door, he could see Dean stagger out of the door. He still looked like a puppet, but he was taller. He also looked ill.

"That was awful," Dean croaked out. "I'm glad that I didn't have the sense of smell when I drank that. I was hoping not to be able to taste, but I could. That was awful."

"You all right?" Sam grabbed Dean's arm. He could start to feel muscles through the felt skin.

"No."

"Well, it's over. Uncle Billy is dead." Sam supported Dean as they awkwardly walked down the hallway.

"Crap. I was hoping to find out how many whacks it would take to kill him with a tiny ax."

"It took five."

"Good to know," Dean muttered as his legs started giving out.

"Well, it's finished. Let's get back to the motel. You can rest."

* * *

Dean rolled over in bed and groaned. He felt lousy. However, finding out that he had his fingers back made him feel a lot better. Even more, they were made out of flesh, muscle, and bone.

He sat up, fighting off another wave of nausea as he looked over himself. All of him hurt, but he looked to be completely back to normal. Physically anyways.

He couldn't wait until he could feel normal again.

The door opened, and Sam stepped into the room. "Hey, you look like you're feeling better. Bobby said that you would be sick for a couple days, and he was right. By the way, I don't recommend watching someone turn from a 2-foot puppet to a 6-foot tall flesh and bone man. It wasn't very much fun to watch. Probably worse to feel. Good thing you were pretty out of it at that time."

"I don't remember it."

"Good." Sam sat down on his bed. "Bobby had to leave. He wants us to stop by when we finally get out of here. I'm thinking you should be up and around in a couple more days."

"Where were you at?" Dean asked as he laid back down.

"At the studio. In that room, they found 47 bodies in that room, some dating back to 1950. All the bodies of the disappeared people. Unfortunately."

"That long haired kid's dad?"

"Yeah. He was one of the bodies. But it's over now."

Dean closed his eyes. He felt so tired. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Those poor kids loved Uncle Billy. I guess they'll have to watch _Sesame Street _now."

"Not necessarily. The network is planning a spinoff featuring the mailman."

Dean opened his eyes again. "If he's also a pagan god, next time, you're going into the room marked 'Danger,' all right?"

"That's a deal."

End

A/N: I couldn't sleep, so I finished it. I hope you liked it. Pure crack. But, it was fun to write. Also, the title? I literally couldn't think of a title.


End file.
